God Help The Outcasts
by RumAndNukaCola
Summary: Sequel to 'Just a Flower From an Old Bouquet.' Genevieve has settled down into a life based on a lie, but when Rorschach returns the truth comes out, and her adopted daughter Margo finds herself uncovering a secret that will change everything.
1. Reuinion

**We're baaaack! So far I'm in love with this story and I'm not even that far in. It's giving me a chance to grow the characters and explore a bit, which will be much easier now as it's based after the graphic novel/movie. (I hope you've experienced both or I will make a sad face.) Margo? I know some of you may be rolling your eyes, but I have great plans for her.**

**Anyway, thanks for stumbling on this, feedback is mucho appreciated! If you haven't read _Just a Flower From an Old Bouquet, _please do as this may not make much sense.**

**On to the story!**

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It's taken him two years.

He smells the New York air and is automatically filled with adrenalin. It took him two whole years to get back to where he belonged, to his city, the one ravaged by a lie.

Without saying goodbye to any of those on the freight boat he's been working on, he leaves the docks, not liking the memories the warehouses stir in him. There's no need for him to return to the boat, no need to collect his pay. He just needed a way over here that didn't require a passport.

Even from out there, there are buildings missing, a few of them in states of rebuild and covered in 'Veidt' logos. It infuriates him, and he cannot wait until he can speak the truth. There are a few bridges to cross, however. Finding a suitable platform where he won't be condemned as a paranoid lunatic will be difficult. Avoiding being assassinated by Veidt is another, he'll have no choice but to lay low for now. He wonders what happened to his journal, who's hands did it fall into that kept it silent?

He finds an apartment in the slums which he can pay the bond for with what little US dollars he has, it's already fitted with a television left over from the previous and dead tenant. Within seconds of switching on, Veidt's smug, grinning face is being broadcast into his new living room. He switches it off as soon as he can reach the button.

Tonight he will rest, and then he will return to the streets. The Keene act has been revoked, he hears. And what better criminal to start with than the murderer who killed more than 3 million people?

--

"You have to be out of your mind, Adrian."

"It's a perfectly logical proposal, the government is practically asking us to do re-form a vigilante group."

"It's not that…"

Genevieve eyes the television, the news reports all kinds of things about the Keene act, now that it's gone, all the media seem to care about is speculating who will and won't return.

Things for Genevieve have been far from rough, yet not easy to cope with, either, especially since adopting a teenage daughter. Margo had just turned 18 when the Keene act was revoked due to drastic police shortages and a rise in crime. The government had little money to put into military presence, so why use it when they could practically have vigilante groups for free?

The television continues to speculate, naming all kinds of masked vigilantes who will be granted a pardon should they choose to return, Silk Spectre II, Nite Owl II, even Rorschach, who's demise was still unknown to them. Her name had popped up once, the short lived 'Miss Saturn' was spoken of briefly in association with Rorschach shortly before the country's top physicists debated on if Dr Manhattan would return and if this would be a good thing.

And then there was Adrian, who has been trying to convince Genevieve for the past hour that returning as a vigilante is a good idea.

"Is it bring recognized you're worried about?" he asks. "Because we both know there are ways around that, you went a long time under cover and I'm sure we can find ways to cover your tracks."

She shakes her head and takes a sip from her wine glass. "Adrian, look at me. I'm not a vigilante anymore."

"Sure, not now, but with some training I'm sure that-"

"Goddamnit, Adrian, do you really think I can do all that shit I used to?! They don't look it but my legs are still as fucking weak as an old lady okay? You're so fucking insensitive, if _you_ want to start playing super hero again, fine, do it. But don't expect me to put my ass on the line! Only reason I'm even here is because you needed a sexual scapegoat."

He pauses and thinks for a moment, and then nods. "I understand, then."

"So you'll be masking up again, then?" she asks him, slugging down the rest of her wine. He shakes his head.

"Not officially. I quit in advance for a reason… however, I'm very interested in assembling a group and helping manage them."

"So you want the rights for the toy line when the time comes?"

"…Partially."

He pulls up a chair across from her now, she knows he's about to ask something serious.

"Is Margo still enrolled cheerleading and women's defence?" he asks.

She nods nonchalantly. "Yeah, she's co-captain this year, you'd know if you paid any attention to your daughter."

"And how is she doing in her defence class?"

"Pretty well, I sat in the other day, she has a great uppercut… wait…" her jaw drops and her eyes thin. "Oh no, no, no, no, don't even fucking _think_ about it!"

"Think about what?" he's smiling smugly, he knows perfectly well.

"Fuck you, Adrian, seriously. You leave Margo the fuck out of this!" She keeps a hushed tone in case Margo is passing the room. "You want to make money and more vigilantes, you ask one of your fucking boyfriends, not my daughter!"

"_Our_ daughter."

"Legally. You hardly have anything to do with her."

"That's not true… I was there for her homecoming game."

"Only because there'd be cameras there… that's not the point. The answer's no, Adrian, we don't need another Silk Spectre scenario. Besides, do you really think that after all the trouble I went through getting her I'm going to let her go out there and get killed?"

He smiles and nods. "You certainly have changed…"

She pauses, and then scowls at him. "Just what are you getting at?!" she snaps.

"You're not Miss Saturn anymore. You're a mother."

--

The apartment is easy to reach from another rooftop. Rorschach shakes his head. After all he's done, he'd hoped Adrian would have been a little more careful. A new grappling gun wasn't hard to come across - even utopias have black markets and pawn shops. It's easy for him to make his way to their balcony.

He lands on the ledge and pockets the grappling gun as he ponders his next course of action. Should he sneak in and get rid of Veidt quietly, or should he just break in? When he realises the glass doorway is locked, he has one choice. A quick punch and enough of the glass smashes for him to get inside, and any hope of a stealthy entrance is obliterated.

At first nothing stirs, but he hears a light switch and prepares himself for Veidt. A door opens, and he hears footsteps in the hall. Something's wrong, they're too light to be Adrian's. It's a woman's footsteps. That would be right, he'd heard something about Veidt marrying. He prepares himself to take unarm her and even take her hostage, although depending on how she reacts he may have to kill her.

The light switches on, and what he sees fills him with so much blind rage he could do far worse to her than end her life.

"Miss Saturn?"

They're both frozen, and the gun she has in her hands drops to the floor along with her jaw. She gasps, as if she's just choked on the air itself and grabs the wall.

"Rorschach?" she stutters, shaking. She's unsure, it could be a copycat… but how would a copycat know who she was?

Without warning and with his hands in fists, he storms towards her and then takes her hair in his hands, literally throwing her to the couch. She cries out as her head hits some of the seat's wooden panelling and tries to pull herself up.

"Explain. Now." He growls.

She gives a groan and puts her hand to her forehead. "You're alive? But I-"

"Explain!" He barks at her, sending her silent. "Why are you here? With Veidt?"

"I'm married to Veidt… Christ, I think I'm bleeding…"

"Married?" he asks, his voice softening.

"Yes. You know, husband, wife… rings…"

"Don't see ring on finger."

"We're less than conventional." She groans, finally flipping her hair out of her face and looking up at him. She was right, she is bleeding. "Do you want to explain to me how you came back from the fucking dead?"

"Not explaining anything to whore." He grunts. "Married Veidt of all people… should erase you now."

"It's not what you think." She snaps. "He… it's a long story, to do with blackmail…"

"Got a lot of time."

"Look, Rorschach," she sighs. "I'd _love_ to tell you, honestly, but I'm kinda trying to understand how a _dead guy_ is hanging out in my house, okay?"

"Not while Veidt's here."

"I'm home alone, he's out."

He pauses, and then eventually gives a grunt. "Never actually died. Manhattan teleported me to Vietnamese slums. Slowly made way to England by working on shipping boats. Arrived here last week."

"So you came for your revenge, then?" she asks.

"You know." He says, crossing his arms. "How?"

"Before Adrian proposed… well, _asked me_ to marry him, he gave me the journal… as a gift, I guess."

"Adrian had journal?" he asks, sounding furious and scaring her a little.

"He bought privately off the guy from New Frontiersman… then he had him killed… and gave it to me."

"You didn't tell anyone?" he asks.

"No… he… threatened to kill me." She notices his hands ball into a fist again. "But, I mean, obviously you didn't either, seeing as it's not top news or anything."

He grunts, shaking his head and relaxing a little. "Tried. Was dismissed as insane. Ignored."

"Something tells me I'd get the same treatment…"

"Why marry him? After knowing that?"

"Well… he uh… he offered to… well, I wanted a child."

He pauses. "Thought you were infertile. TV said so."

"I am." She sighs. "But after all that stuff in New York, there was a lot of orphans, and a lot of red tape… and they were only adopting them out to married couples… and Adrian had the money to get through the complications…"

He's staring at her now, she can tell by the way his mask is shifting. "…Have… child?"

She nods, playing with her hands. "Her name is Margo… she's just a little over 18…"

"Old for adoption."

"I wanted a child that would understand my predicament... This marriage has no love, Adrian just wanted it for the publicity that came with it, I'm surprised you didn't hear about it overseas."

"Obviously not much coverage in England. Managed to ignore most media regardless."

"Oh, it was all the rage here. There was even a commemorative plate out. Anyway," she laughs. "Margo knows why we're married… we've got a good relationship, though, her and I. Adrian might not give her much attention but she calls me 'Mom' and lets me look after her…"

"Margo here?" he asks. She shakes her head.

"She's got a school friend she spends a lot of time with, she's staying there tonight."

"Said Veidt blackmailed you."

She sighs and then nods. "Sit, it's a long one." She gestures to the other lounge chair, and when he's seated she begins. "After we saved the fabrics… he knew who I was, figured it out thanks to the security footage at the hospital. Anyway, his sales were down because of the dangerous fabrics, so to help his image he made a deal with me: I could pretty much be his puppet and he'd put me up in the best care, in the best house and so on… or else he'd let my secret out and I could recover in jail. You have to understand, Rorschach, I was scared and alone and I didn't have anyone…"

"Evil. Evil is only word for it."

"…I didn't mean to-"

"Not you." He butts in. "Veidt, using another's bleak situation for own personal gain. Pathetic."

She smiles, sending him back a little. Why was she smiling?

"Why so happy?" he asks. "Living in sham marriage, should be miserable."

"…You're back."

--

Margo ducks down under the beam as her friend Anne leads her into the basement where the meeting is being held. When Anne said 'underground' magazine party, she wasn't just using a figure of speech.

"Are you _sure_ this is legal?" she asks, already able to smell all kinds of smoke.

"God, Margo!" Anne groans as they head down the final stairs. "You worry too much, girl! It's fine, just a party run by the foremost front of the liberal media."

"You _do_ realise what happens if I get arrested, right? Like, there _will_ be TV cameras…"

"Oh come on, is it the drugs you're worried about?" she asks, as they come to the door. "Because you don't _have_ to take them, you know."

Anne opens the door and she sighs. "No, just 'Veidt' and 'Heroin' don't look too good in the same headline." She mumbles under her breath so as to shut Anne up as they step inside. Anne doesn't hear, the music is already too loud.

It's not long before Anne has managed to drag her over to a group of guys, most of them already off their faces on whatever the narcotic of choice is. They sit in a circle, chatting over the music about conspiracies. At this point, no one has realised exactly _who_ she is yet, she hopes to keep it this way.

"Anyway, so _that's_ why fluoride turns people gay." One of them slurs, passing her a cigarette. She laughs as she lights it and shakes her head.

"So why are they putting it in the water?" she asks in jest.

"Population control." He whispers.

"Population control?" Anne roars, cackling as she does so. "What about all those millions who died when Manhattan went crazy? Logic is _flawed!_"

The man scowls at Anne as she laughs off his theory, and another, younger one clears his throat.

"_Actually,_" he begins, leaning into the circle a little and waving his cigarette around. "Speaking of Dr Manhattan, I heard this great little theory when I was in London. Would you care to hear it?"

Anne shrugs. "As long as it's better than captain fluoride here."

He gestures for everyone to listen, as if he's telling a great tale. "Well, my aunt who I was staying with told me this great one. When her boyfriend was working at the docks, he met this guy. Crazy American bloke, not the most social of the bunch, trying to work his way back to the US, anyway," he continues. Margo smiles a little, his accent is making it much more entertaining. "One night, he comes home and tells her that this guy thinks Dr Manhattan wasn't the cause behind those big blasts at all."

"Oh, really?" the first guy snorts. "Then who was?"

"This is the best part. Okay, so according to this guy, right, _Adrian Veidt_ of all people was the one who did it!" This is met by laughter from everyone including Margo. "Apparently, Veidt actually used a machine to copy Manhattan's powers and blow everything up!"

"Why the hell would he do that?" the first one asks. "That doesn't even make sense, Steve."

"Well, remember how everyone thought the Russians were going to bomb us? Well apparently, this guy figured that by blowing up enough people around the world, everyone would focus on one common enemy and stop trying to blow each other up."

Everyone except Margo laughs now. Steve continues. "The best part about this is that there's actually a guy I know who believes it! You know Lionel from Borderline Publishing? Yeah, he believes every word of that shit, thinks it's 'completely logical.' Load of bollocks if you ask me."

--

His mask shifts and she gives a shudder, it's been a while.

"Assumed you were dead." He says. "Avoided blast, how?"

She chuckles a little, shifting in her seat. "Well, Adrian sent me on a cruise. I was half way between Australia and Bali when it happened. Looking back I understand just _why_ he put me on _that_ exact cruise… I guess I can thank him for that much."

There's an incredibly long silence in the room, and it makes the both of them uncomfortable. She sighs.

"How will you explain smashed window to Veidt?" he asks. She shrugs.

"He's in China on business for the rest of the month. I'll have it replaced myself before he's back."

"Surely Veidt keeps check on finances."

"I have an allowance, in my account, in my name. Besides, I'm sure I can come up with an excuse by then…"

--

It's about 3.00AM, Margo and Anne surface from the building where the party was held, Anne intoxicated, Margo exhausted.

"It's so late…" Margo sighs. "If my Mom had any idea…"

"But she _doesn't!_" Anne slurs as she pats her friend on the back, well, more of a slap than a pat. "Live a little, Margo!"

"Can't we go back inside and call a taxi?" Margo asks, a little worried by their surroundings. The neighbourhood is less than shoddy, and they've come out into probably one of the longest allies she's seen in the city.

"_Mar-go!"_ Anne sings. "The taxi rank is like two blocks away, I'm not paying the extra $5 it takes to call one!"

Margo shivers and follows her friend, who stumbles down the ally, and puts her hands in her pockets. Voices call out from behind her following a long whistle.

"Hello sexy!" one of the male voices calls. Anne turns back to look, Margo tries to ignore them.

"Hey, come 'ere for a second…" the other calls. "Just a second! We just wanna talk to you…"

Margo picks up the pace, grabbing Anne by the sleeve and pulling her along. But she can already hear the footsteps of the men speeding up with them and breaks into a run, almost literally dragging Anne with her. She feels Anne stop, the sudden jolt causing her to stumble a little. One of the men has Anne, and it wasn't long before the other two caught up, surrounding them against the wall.

"Now, _ladies,_ that was a little rude, ignoring us like that…" the tallest man says, grinning as his two friends laughed. The two girls step back until they're against the wall. "But it's okay, I know a way you can make it up to us…"

One of the men grabs Anne by the throat and pins her to the wall, and the tall one makes a grab for Margo. Margo ducks down, and remembering what they learnt in self-defence class, gives him a quick but sturdy uppercut, launching him into the air. The third man comes at her and she uses the first move she learnt – she kicks him in the crotch. Her attention turns to Anne now, who is gasping for air as the man lets her go to attack Margo. This time he's quicker than her, landing a fist to her face, followed by a knee.

This, however, isn't enough to send her to the ground yet. This time she throws a punch back and lands it on his mouth, making a crack sound as a tooth dislodges. The tall one grabs her around the waist and in his struggle to get a hold on her, he rips off her necklace, causing her to gasp. She gives a scream, not one of fear, but of anger – the necklace belonged to her mother before she died. She throws back her elbow and shoves it into his stomach, causing him to let go of her and stumble back trying to breath. Anne is gone now, she can see her running down the ally, screaming, as another man kicks her in the ribs. She stumbles backwards, giving a cough, but still manages to block yet another punch, and continues until she can breath again.

She's against the wall again, so infuriated that the man has the necklace that she feels a new kind of energy as she continues to block, and begins alternating between attack and defence, dishing more than she was taking. She takes another hit to the face and spits out blood as she punches back, now fatigued.

Just as she feels like giving up, she hears an almighty roar and the wind picks up all of a sudden. This is followed by a bright, bright light that causes everyone, even her to stop and look up at what is lowering itself down. All three stare at the giant structure in silence, until she breaks it.

"What the fuck…"

The ship lowers itself down until it is hovering just a little above them and then stops abruptly. One figure emerges… then a second and larger one… and once they are out of the shadows and into the light, the men run in terror, dropping whatever issue they had with Margo.

"Are you alright?" she larger figure asks her. She doesn't respond, she's too shocked at what she's seeing. The smaller figure runs to catch up with the men, but the larger calls to her.

"No, come on, they're gone… are you okay?" he asks her again. It takes her a second, but she nods.

She feels a hand on her shoulder and jumps, but the light touch calms her somewhat. "Are you hurt?" the female voice asks. Margo nods.

"Do you need us to go to a hospital?"

Margo doesn't reply, but instead puts her hands over her face and begins to cry. She has _no_ idea what's going on now. The larger figure looks at the one behind her and nods, before pressing something on his wrist that makes the giant structure lower itself down even more. A panel on it opens and folds out, revealing an entrance and stairs. The lights dim.

"Come on," the female voice whispers. "We'll get you out of here, okay?"

She whimpers and doesn't move, the figure stands in front of her now as the larger one boards. She looks her in the face and for the first time Margo sees the face of one of her saviours. "We're not going to hurt you, alright?" she assures her, her voice soft. "We're here to help you."

And with that, the female figure leads Margo into the structure. It's not what Margo had expected in there. It's warm, and there's music playing. The woman leads Margo to a seat that's bolted into the floor as the door shuts. "Now we're going to take off, okay? But Nite Owl will make sure to take it nice and easy for you, _won't you,_ _Nite Owl?_" She asks him through gritted teeth as if they've been arguing about this before. He sighs.

"Sure, and Silk Spectre will leave _me_ to worry about the flying, _won't you, Silk Spectre?_"

Margo's jaw drops as she feels the vehicle move, and even more worrying than the fact they're taking off is who she's in there with. "Wait…" she sobs. "You mean… you guys are… _the_ Silk Spectre and Nite Owl?"

"Second generation, of course." Silk Spectre chuckles, opening a cabinet and removing a first-aid kit. "Now, do you wanna tell us your name?" she asks.

"Margo…"

Silk Spectre laughs as she kneels down in front of Margo and removes some alcohol wipes from the kit. "Do you have a surname, or are you like Madonna and Cher?"

"Margo Veidt."

It's lucky that Dan has already put the machine on an autopilot setting, because they both freeze in their tracks before staring at her.

"Veidt… as in… _Adrian_ Veidt?" Nite Owl asks. Margo nods and Silk Spectre continues to stare at her.

"What in _god's name_ were you doing out here at 3 in the morning?" she exclaims.

Nite Owl, on the other hand, isn't convinced. "Adrian had kids?"

"She was adopted!" Silk Spectre snaps. "It was all over the news."

"Sorry… I try to not pay much attention…"

Margo raises an eyebrow. "To my dad?"

There's a silence again and the two look at each other. Silk Spectre shakes her head and Nite Owl begins to stutter.

"Uh… to gossip and TV… you know… they weren't uh… they weren't too good to us over the years." He eventually musters.

"Oh, yeah," Margo sighs, wiping some blood away from her mouth. "We have that problem a lot, too. We try to stay away from it."

"Uh, let me get that for you, Margo…" Silk Spectre says, grabbing a wipe again and proceeding to wipe the blood away.

"So… how is your dad?" Nite Owl asks.

Margo gives him a quizzical look, but then remembers the obvious link. "Oh, you two used to work together... he's alright… he's in China on business for the rest of the month…"

"Does he _know_ you're out here?" Silk Spectre asks.

Margo gives a little jump and shakes her head. "Oh, no, god, _please_ don't tell anyone! I will be in so much trouble, like, do you have any idea how freaking colossal my punishments are?"

Nite Owl chuckles and shakes his head. "We won't tell anyone… we uh… don't see Adrian much these days anyway…"

"You're gonna need stitches…" Silk Spectre announces, poking gently at a gash on her cheekbone. "And a good excuse to go with it…"

"It's okay…" Margo sighs. "My Mom's the only one home tonight…"

Silk Spectre closes up the first-aid kit and smiles at her. "Tell Genevieve I said hi, by the way, it's been a while since I met her."

Margo blinks. "Wait, _you_ know my mom? What?!"

"Seems we're linked in more ways than one…"

--

He's helped himself to an apple that was sitting in the fruit bowl and is munching on it. She doesn't take her eyes off the exposed part of his face. There isn't any other sound in the room other than the wind outside and the sound of him chewing.

"Life with Veidt," he begins, taking another bite and chewing vigorously. "How is it?

"Do you want the 'official' story or the truth?" she asks, knowing perfectly well what his answer is.

"Truth."

"Lonely."

"Have Margo."

"Well, yeah, when she's here. And there's things Margo can't do… anyway, it's stupid to go on about that."

"Can't imagine loveless marriage would be anything but isolating. Anyone else outside?"

She laughs. "You know as well as I do that'll never happen. I'm far too bitter."

He finishes the apple, pocketing the core and wiping his mouth. He reaches to his mask. "Shame. Observed woman who'd make good housewife. Waste."

He moves to roll the mask down but she extends an arm grabbing his wrist. He pulls away, and the upper half of the mask shifts. She has some explaining to do. "I… uh… I just… it's been so long… I was hoping… I just want to see what I can. I-I'm sorry, I know you hate this stuff. I'll go to bed…"

She stands to move but this time he grabs her wrist. "Meant what you said in letter?" he asks her.

"…I've never been more honest in my life." She replies very quietly.

For a reason he'll never be able to understand, he removes his hat, and then eventually the mask. Maybe he's lonely, maybe he pities her now, maybe he wants things to be like they were, but he does it anyway and the smile on her face makes him want to seize her in his arms there and then. He tells himself it's pity, she's deathly thin now, and her new home is cold and nothing like her – he can tell she's unhappy.

She puts a hand to his cheek and runs her thumb over his skin. He's here; the man she's been morning for so long is back, in her living room, and she's looking him in the eyes.

"Mom?!" A voice shouts from down the hall. A door closes, and the two pull away from each other in a panic. She shoots him a look.

"Margo, it's 4.30 in the morning…" she calls back. "Is something wrong?"

Before he can even put his mask back on, she's in the doorway, and even he is shocked at the state of the girl.

"Jesus _Christ!!_ Margo! What happened?!" Her mother exclaims, forgetting he's there at all and rushing to her, taking her face in her hands and looking her all over. Margo begins to cry and he figures this is a good chance to pocket the mask before Margo notices him.

"Anne… took me to a party…." Margo sobs, her mother inspecting the cuts on her face. "And… and on the way out we were mugged… and they were gonna hurt us… so I fought them back…"

"Oh my god!" Genevieve whines. "You're gonna need stitches… I'm just glad you're alive…"

"They took my mom's necklace!"

Genevieve pulls her in for a hug, horrified. "It'll be okay, shhhhh, we'll fix you up here, we won't even need to take you to the hospital… you're safe here… shhh…"

He watches them both, and although he hates to admit it, he's a little bit touched by how maternal she's become. It's then that Margo finally picks up on his presence.

"Who's he?" she asks, sounding a little worried. "And why is the window broken?"

He eyes Genevieve who seems to have thought this out already. "Well, there was already a crack against it and I slammed the door a little too hard and the whole thing came down."

"Serious?" she asks.

"Yep. It was really weird. Anyway, Walter here is with the security team and he came up to see what was going on, and it turns out Walter is a _very_ old friend of mine."

Margo eyes him for a moment. "He's gonna stay here, right?" she asks.

Genevieve smiles and laughs a little. "Oh, Margo, I don't think that's really-"

"Mom, I'm really scared…"

She sighs. "Margo, Walter has-"

"Will stay." He says, taking Genevieve off guard a little and causing her to mouth 'what?' at him. "Will be nice to catch up with Miss…" he cuts himself off before he can say 'Saturn.' "…Erm… _Veidt."_

There isn't a sound for a moment but a few sniffles from Margo until Genevieve speaks up again. "Okay, well, Margo, go have a shower and change into some warm clothes and when you're done we'll stich you up, alright?"

Margo nods and heads down the other hall, leaving just those to in the room. Genevieve wipes a tear away.

"You okay?" he asks her. She nods.

"Just a little shocked, you know… Jesus fuck, now they're even coming after my daughter… you don't have to stay, you know. I'd rather you out there stopping this shit than here."

He shakes his head. "No. Will be day soon. Have much to discuss."

She shakes her head, smiling as she does so. "…Fine. Okay. Whatever. Spare bedroom is down this hall, first on the left." She begins to leave the room and head into the kitchen area. "I'll just be a second, I have to get a medical kit…"

"Will wait here." He grunts.

He remains where he sits as she goes through a doorway, and looks around at the living room.

"Purple." He mumbles to himself. Everything is purple, or lined with gold, or something gaudy that Adrian appreciates. He wonders if she had any say at all in the decorating. There is a photo on the wall of Margo in a formal dress, a banner above her that says 'Prom' and a topknot on her arm. He thins his eyes, he doesn't like the look of him and wonders what Genevieve was thinking allowing her daughter near such scum.

He notices a magazine on the coffee table, a women's magazine. The three of them are on the cover, close together, playing the part of happy family. He flicks through and finds the article, he doesn't know the entire true story but he can gather their publicity stunt is working and fooling the masses. He's not sure why Adrian would want a fake family other than to cover up homosexuality – which is an entire possibility. He notes to ask her about this later. e turns the page and sees a full-page photo, and his blood boils automatically at the sight of Genevieve and Veidt kissing. He puts the magazine down, even if it is fake, he can't overcome his sense of disgust, this is just glamorised prostitution. He hates the idea of her having a family with a man who killed so many, with a man who can't love her…

"Here we go." Genevieve sighs, lugging in a white box and placing it on the coffee table. "Adrian laughed when I insisted we keep a supply of medical equipment, look who's laughing now."

"Should be taking her to hospital."

She shakes her head, removing the lid. "Have we forgotten why _we_ didn't go to hospitals?"

"Not the same."

"No, but when the media attack my daughter for being beaten up at some party somewhere she may as well be a vigilante. They're like flies, Rorschach, and the last thing she needs right now is another scandal, god knows things aren't… sorry, uh, can you take this for a second?" she hands him the antiseptic cream as she gets everything else she needs out.

"Things aren't…?"

She looks up and listens for the sounds of the shower before she replies. "Thing's aren't… easy for Margo at the moment… she's uh… been acting out."

"Acting out?" he asks, watching her close the lid and handing her the cream.

"There uh… she's been spotted at a few… okay, someone got a picture of her at Happy Harry's. Next thing we know, there's a media circus because she was drinking underage in a dive bar. Then all of a sudden all this other stuff surfaces… Margo didn't take it too well…"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"She uh… I'd rather not talk about it." She replies, biting her lip and blinking erratically, signs that it was a sensitive topic. "But the point is, the girl's had it hard enough without seeing pictures of her bloodied mug all over the fucking TV."

"Need backup story." he announces. "Assuming daughter doesn't know of past proclivities."

She shrugs and takes a seat, nodding. "We… were co-workers?"

"You worked for Veidt. Won't hold up."

"But before that." She continues. "I… uh, okay, what about if we tell her we were housemates for a while when I was in college, and you were the landlord or something?"

He pauses, seems like a fair enough idea. Not too far fetched, easy to run with, not a lot of questions to answer.

"Fine."

It's then that Margo comes back in, dressed in pyjamas, her hair still wet and cringing from her swollen face. She sits next to her mother, who immediately begins attending to her daughters wounds. He watches her, almost in total awe of her gentility. Usually she was a rough, violent and hot headed woman, but not now. The woman in front of him is soft and kind, cooing at her daughter as she winces from the needle. Eventually she finishes, snipping the surgical thread and placing the needle done.

"There, all done." She whispers before leaning in and kissing her on the cheek. "Now, don't pick at it and it should be fine, okay?"

"_Mom,_" Margo snaps. "You're embarrassing me…" this just makes Genevieve laugh and pat her on the shoulder.

"Alright, off to bed now Margo. You may not have school but you've _got_ to be tired."

"But…"

"It's okay," she assures her, finding a little humour in the fact that the girl who wanted independence before was now clutching to her. "Nothing's gonna happen to you, Walter and I are here, okay?" she winks at him and he casts his eyes away.

Margo nods, wiping her eye and standing up. "Alright… night Mom… I love you." She's teary and emotional.

"I love you too."

She turns to Walter. "Night…"

He doesn't reply, but it doesn't matter as Margo has already started to walk to her room. They hear the door shut and Genevieve laughs.

"Well, that's my daughter." She shrugs, beginning to clean the medical supplies.

"Taking this well." He begins. "Thought you'd seek vengeance."

She laughs, closing the lid on the box. "I'm well past those days… besides, I'm just glad she's okay. I have time to be angry later, right now it's best if she rests…"

He smiles a little and this scares her more than his mask ever will. She looks at him suspiciously. "What's got you so happy?" she asks.

"Seeing new side of you… maternal… like it." He wasn't lying, in fact, he was playing it down. It was making him feel things… like when he'd watch her smash whore's heads with glass bottles… he's gone so long thinking she was dead, seeing her face again was like eating for the first time in months. After all that time they both spent thinking 'what if' and playing situations in their minds over and over, they finally have a chance to do what they told themselves they would, even if they tried to deny it.

She stands up and sits down on the couch next to him and takes his hand, he's a little taken back by how soft hers are compared to his gritty, rough palms. She envelops his in hers and smiles at him. "I missed you…" she says quietly.

He has words he can say, but he can't bring himself to say them at all. He's happy, and even though he shouldn't be and he's happy for all the wrong reasons, the face in front of his overshadows all inner dialogue. He pulls her hands closer, and she follows, closer and closer until their lips meet. She can feel him trembling a little, from nerves probably, and even though it's not the most earth-shattering kiss she can tell she'll remember it forever.

She pulls back, not sure if it's going to fast for him, knowing what he's like in these situations.  
"Are you going to run away this time?" she asks.

"No."

That's all she needs to hear, and evidentially, it was all he needed to say before they could indulge in a longer, closer and deeper kiss. Her heart begins to race at a speed she didn't think it could reach anymore, she never thought she'd feel this again, neither did he. She stands up, taking him by the hand and leading him down the hall into the guest room where he's staying…


	2. Investigation

**Wow. This has taken me AGES to get online for you guys. I am so sorry about that. I've recently had a little pooping, peeing, wanting-to-play-at-3.30AM miracle arrive in my life, though, so I've been pretty drained for time. And before you say it - no, it's not a baby. It's a puppy, hehe.**

**ALSO! WATCHMEN DVD OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG I think I have literally watched it about 30 times since I got it, I am not even joking. I'm pretty sure I want to marry JEH now XD I also got myself a copy of Under the Hood which is freakin' amazing.**

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! On to the next, wheeeee~**

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Margo glances at the building, and then the piece of paper in her hand.

_Borderline Publishing, 12a, Avondale Lane. _– She's in the right place.

She looks around, and even though it's midday, the street is relatively dead. She pushes up her sunglasses, despite the fact her disguise has never failed her before, her face is still swollen and she can't afford to be recognized. She enters the building and a bell rings, it's dark inside, the window shades haven't been pulled up and she can smell cigarette smoke.

"What is it?" a nasal voice calls.

"Uh… this is Borderline Publishing, right?" she asks, closing the door behind her.

"Can't you _read?_" the voice snaps from behind a divider.

"Oh… uh… if I could just have a quick talk with you…"

"Look, I don't have _time_ to chat, if you're here about the job offering, it's closed. We have a lovely lady named Rosa who comes in and cleans now so _go away!_"

She blinks, who the hell does this guy think he is? She's far past her patience threshold now. She came for something and she's going to get it. She storms past the divider into what this guy could call his office and crosses her arms at the overweight figure hunched over his desk.

"_Lady,_ I'm very busy and…" he spins around but turns silent, his jaw dropping a little. She purses her lips, what's his problem?

"Oh…" he stutters. "Oh… I'm uh… uh… erm… uh… I'm sorry…" he stands up, brushing crumbs off his shirt. "I uh… I didn't think that someone like _you_ would come here…"

"Like me?" she asks, a little worried she's been recognized.

"I mean… uh… I don't usually get a lot of uh, well… I don't get a lot of girls in here… uh… sorry… uh… can I help you?"

She shakes her head. She didn't actually think people like this existed. "Yeah, I hear uh… I'm doing some research on a theory I heard…"

He smiles. "Well, I can probably help you there."

"Good, I was hoping so…" she doesn't want to be here for nothing. "I'm wondering if you can tell me a little more about this theory I heard on Adrian Veidt and the November 2nd attacks?"

He gives her a curious look. "Are you a cop?" he asks. "Because you gotta tell me if you are. I can get killed for knowing this stuff."

"No… name's Samantha Martinez." She lies, extending her hand. "You must be Lionel, then?"

He takes her hand, shaking it vigorously. His palms are sweaty, grossing her out a little and making her wish she could leave already. "Yeah, Lionel Connor, at your service. How can I help you?" he asks, gesturing to a spare seat.

"Well, I heard the basic idea of the theory… but it was sketchy on details…"

He gestures to her to wait for a moment before spinning in his chair and retrieving a file from the shelf. He hands it to her.

"If you need details, you've come to the right place… I don't know everything, but I know enough."

--

He awakens; she's not next to him like she was when he went to sleep. For a second he panics, not knowing where she is startles him, but then he hears her voice from the living room.

"So she's not there, then?" her voice asks someone as he gets out of the bed, scanning his room for his clothes and gathering them.

"No, no, I understand… Yes, she told me about that, is Anne doing okay? Oh, really? Well let her know I wish her well, alright? Okay… well please do call me if you see her, okay? Alright, thankyou Mrs Lewis."

He hears her almost slam the phone down and give a groan as he finishes putting the last of his clothes on, save the coat. He hesitantly leaves the room and joins her in the living room, not sure what to expect.

"Don't sound happy." He acknowledges.

"She's fucking run off again!" she sighs, her head in her hands and visibly stressed. "Goddamnit, Margo…"

"Can go find her for you." He offers. She shakes her head.

"That's not what I'm worried about. If anyone sees her with her face like that…"

"Don't mean to interfere with parenting of child, but would be more concerned with child's safety than public image."

She looks up at him. "That's not how it works, Rorschach. I told you, she doesn't take very well to the pressure… sometimes I think I did more harm to her than good."

"Selfless act. Meant well. You're a good mother."

She laughs, turning her eyes away from him. "…Thanks… did you sleep well?" she asks. He grunts in acknowledgement. "Will you be going out tonight?"

"Yes." He replies, glancing at the clock. "Need to announce return. Assume you won't be joining me?"

She laughs and reaches for her cigarettes off the coffee table. "Yeah, that'll happen."

"Keene act revoked. Not breaking any laws if recognized."

"Not the problem," she mutters through the side of her mouth as she lights her cigarette. "Physically speaking, I never strengthened my legs back to what they were."

"Why?" he asks. "Condition of Veidt's?" he sounds a little angry now.

"Partially. That and I figured 'hey, why bother?' you seemed to be doing fine without me, and then next thing I knew you were dead anyway… or at least I thought that. I don't know… maybe if I'd had even an inkling that things would turn out like this then _maybe_ I would have done something… he actually fucking wanted me to go back to crime fighting, you know? Said he's getting a team of vigilantes together, like the Watchmen. Just another marketing move, I guess…"

"Why stay?" he asks. "Could leave, divorce him."

"I would if I could. It's not that simple."

"Granting pardons to former vigilantes that in action during Keene act. Has no ammunition."

"Margo." She says bluntly. "If I left there's not a doubt in my mind that he'd try and succeed to take her from me, the smug little fucker, sometimes I just want to take him by the neck and…" she stops herself when she realises she's making a fist. She inhales and closes her eyes for a moment in an attempt to calm down. "I assume your first matter of business would have something to do with my husband."

"Must face justice, murdered innocents, no excuse for actions."

She chuckles. "Didn't expect any different from you… well, unless you plan on going to China, you've got a month to wait."

"Convenient."

--

"So… this guy…" Margo asks Lionel, handing him back the folder. "Does he have a name?"

"The guy who this theory comes from? From what I gather, everyone just referred to him as Truman."

"So… that's it? It's a dead end, then?"

"Well, no…" he begins, taking a swig from a can of Mountain Dew. "If the theory is correct, that means there'd be witnesses… but they're a _little_ hard to find…"

"I have a lot of contacts." She chuckles, knowing she'll have little trouble with her last name. "Try me."

"Well, if the theory is true, then Dr Manhattan was actually there… but good luck finding him, he could be anywhere in the universe for all we know. Of course, the most detailed version mentions Silk Spectre II and Nite Owl as well as Rorschach… but Laurie Jupiter's in hiding, good luck finding her. No one knows anything about Nite Owl, and Rorschach went missing when he escaped from jail… of course, there's Adrian Veidt in the centre of it, but hey, if you can get close enough to him to ask him, good luck not getting killed."

She pauses for a moment, the only sound being the wheezing as he breathes and the clicking of the ceiling fan. "Silk Spectre II and Nite Owl, huh?" she asks, standing up.

"Uh… is that everything? You sure you don't want a coffee or something?"

"No thanks, I should be going…"

"Samantha?" he adds as she takes her bag.

"Hmm?"

"There's this other link… well, it's not much, but it could lead you to Rorschach… 'Miss Saturn.' She was a vigilante with him during the Keene act, short lived, though, disappeared in '84. It's not much, but at this point anything is good…"

"Thanks, Lionel," she says, turning to leave. "I'll let you know if I find anything out."

--

It's getting dark now, she watches him put his mask on, wringing her hands.

"Are you sure you have to go?" she asks, knowing perfectly well the answer. "Um… don't answer that."

"Seem worried." He observes.

She gives a laugh. "How can I not be?"

"Should be more concerned with daughter's whereabouts. Getting late."

"I'd be more worried if Margo was home by 5.30… but if you see her… umm…"

"Will scare her into coming home."

"…Thanks, Rorschach."

He puts up his collar and heads for her bedroom balcony, but stops before getting to the ledge. He turns to her.

"Margo's necklace, stolen. Need description."

She begins to laugh. "That's sweet but good luck finding it."

"Humour me."

She sighs, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. "You haven't changed… it's a silver locket… it has a picture of Margo and her parents inside, if you find it, you'll know it. _If_ you find it, Mr super hero."

"Not hero." He retorts bluntly, climbing onto the railing. Without another word, he drops down onto the fire escape underneath and away from her. The parting makes him feel an alarming feeling for a moment, like there's a sinking feeling in his stomach, but he continues to climb down. He has all month, and he will return.

--

"Have you found what you were looking for?" one of the men working in the library asks over Margo's shoulder as she goes through countless microfiche, she shakes her head. "Well, it's getting late… it's nearly 6, so you know."

He leaves and she gives a sigh. 1985 and backwards… getting through the newspapers of '85 alone was a feat, let alone all the way back to '74. So far has been moderately fruitful, though only contained things she already knew. She stops rolling through the film and stares at the screen.

_**RORSCHACH REVEALED!**_

_Daring arrest nabs wanted murderer._

She gives a groan and throws her head backwards, her spine giving a few little clicks as she does so thanks to the hours she's spent sitting there. She hasn't even bothered reading any of the articles about him before November 2nd; it's all bound to be the same.

She decides to start searching in 1984 papers, and most of it is the same when it comes to Rorschach, _wanted vigilante… signature at crime scene… several murders… witnesses describe masked maniac…_ she flicks too far forward into the advertisements, the 'adult services' section, to be precise. She giggles as she glances over the titles, deciding it's time for a bit of a mental break. _Live nudes… girls, girls, girls… dirty sluts… topless dancers… peep shows… live shows… video booths… retro erotica…_

Margo audibly laughs at the last one; the phrase 'retro erotica' seems out of place and doesn't raise the best mental images. She reads the advertisement in more detail, a picture of a red-headed woman with her back to the reader, an arm in the air, hand on her hip and a yellow costume on that's short enough to leave a considerable gap between the garment and her boots.

_RETRO NIGHT AT THE RED PONY - $25 ENTRY_

_Music from yesteryear all night, out girls dance to classics from the 40's, 50's, 60's and 70's! Happy hour 12.00-1.00AM._

_**SALLY SATURN GRAND SHOW!**  
Come and see the highlight of the night, our headliner **SALLY SATURN** will do ONE SHOW tonight and ONE SHOW ONLY this Saturday and Sunday night at 12.00! Take a trip down memory lane as our masked beauty teases, tantalises and leaves you begging for more to classics from a golden era of sensuality. **LAST TWO SHOWS THIS WEEKEND, SATURDAY AND SUNDAY ONLY!** **A SHOW NOT TO BE MISSED!**_

She chuckles, Margo gets it – Like Sally Jupiter but with a different planet. Clever name and gimmick for a stripper… she does a double take.

"Sally Saturn?"

She immediately remembers Lionel mentioning 'Miss Saturn' and she feels a slight tinge of hope as she frantically jots down the address of the Red Pony, before flicking through some issues closer to that date. On the very next day there's a headline:

**STRIP CLUB TERROR – Masked Maniac attacks and kidnaps stripper.**

_NEW YORK – Patrons of the 'Red Pony' strip club fled in terror last night when wanted masked vigilante Rorschach attacked and seemingly kidnapped an erotic dancer during a performance._

_Sally Saturn, a dancer who dresses up and impersonates the now retired Silk Spectre of the Minutemen, was performing her routine when the initial fighting began. According to eyewitness accounts, Rorschach had already been in the establishment for a very short period of time before attacking patrons, members of security and eventually Sally Saturn herself._

_"It just came out of nowhere." Eyewitness Robert Gonzales told the Gazette. "The place was packed, everyone had come to see her, and she'd just started dancing and then all of a sudden she stopped. Took us all a few seconds to realise Rorschach was standing there. Next thing I know, he's knocked out two of the guys in the front row and taking on security. Everyone starts screaming and running, I'd been at the bar so I had to wait for everyone else to get out, and my buddy Larry was already really drunk so we were stuck for longer, eventually he got all the security guards that'd take him so we were trying really hard to get the hell outta there before one of us got killed, but then all of a sudden the stripper, no, really, the stripper is off the stage and she's slamming a stool over his back. Last thing I see before we finally got out, she's taking a punch. Like a champ, too! It was really surreal."_

_Police say that although attempts to locate Sally Saturn have been made, the situation is complicated by lack of identification._

_"It's a tough case, really." Says Officer Shaw of NYPD. "We have no idea who she is, no one does, and not even the club's owner can tell us who she really is because he paid in cash. We can't even match her face because she was always wearing a mask. As much as we'd love to find her, it's nearly impossible without even a description."_

_"The situation is grim, I'll admit." Officer Greaves, who is assigned to cases to do with Rorschach commented. "We can only assume he knew more about her than we did, and with his track record… no, I don't expect her to turn up alive, to be blunt. Rorschach has a habit of making his victims known, so I don't think we'll have a hard time identifying her should her body show up. Motive wise… well, I can't exactly tell you what she did to warrant Rorschach's attention of all people because I don't even know who she is, but I can assume it had to be something pretty bad."_

_"From what witnesses are telling us, she could hold her own against him, which is surprising in itself." Officer Shaw later explained. "So if I had to make a guess I'd link her to some gang activity. Apparently she got some very decent hits in, which is a first for Rorschach as far as I know."_

_Sally Saturn has quickly found popularity dancing to the hits of the 1940s in homage to Sally Jupiter, also known as Silk Spectre. Her last show was scheduled for tonight._

_Rorschach is currently a wanted vigilante who refused to cease activity when the Keene Act was passed in 1974. His identity remains unknown._

_Anyone with more information should contact their local police department._

Her eyes widen. Sally Saturn is _too_ coincidental for her to overlook. No, this is a link, it has to be…

She grabs her bag and stuffs it in a locker, taking the basics she'll need with her in her pockets. She's about to head to a shady part of town in the dark, she'd rather leave it here overnight then worry about it there.


	3. Confrontation

**Two in one night? Schweeeeet!**

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**

Neon lights flash, reflecting off the puddles in the street as he walks through them, keeping his head down and hunching as he makes his way past the whores, who seem to be quiet tonight. He's not sure if this is part of the result of Veidt's utopia or if they realise he's back. Probably the latter, unless Veidt wanted the red light district in his perfect world. Not much has changed at all.

A flyer for Veidt's company flutters by his feet in the breeze. He's everywhere but where Rorschach can get to him. For a while he considered going, he wouldn't expect him while he was overseas… but he had to make up for lost time in New York, in his city, the one he left behind unwillingly.

He thinks about Genevieve, picturing her living with Veidt for so long. The least he can do is be thankful that there seems to be no love there at all, the last thing he wants to picture is them sharing the same bed. He does anyway; he can't let his guard down. She's crafty. Veidt's calculating. They'd be perfect for each other if they got along.

A part of him is jealous of Veidt; getting to spend so much time with the woman he should have spent all that time with. He never would have blackmailed her, and although he wouldn't be able to give her a giant, expensive and purple themed penthouse, he'd do his best… although giving her a child was another matter. Not that he hates children, he likes them a little. They're innocent, humans in their purist forms; it's adults who make children bad, the right parent can make a child honest and good… although it seems rare these days.

He grunts under his breath. Must be kidding, there's no way she'd have ever stayed with him if the circumstances were permitting. No way he'd stay with her, either. He'd be sick of her after a few days, he probably will now once the feeling of seeing her for the first time in years wares off. He looks at the whores who cross the street to meet potential clients, he reminds himself she's the same as them, only giving love when she wants something. Be it money, medical expenses, children, affection… it's always something. He feels guilty for spending the night with her and tries to forget that he fell for her ploy again, she's clouding his judgement: She's Adrian Veidt's wife, she's not to be trusted. Not even in a moment of weakness.

--

"We don't get a lot of girls your age in here unless they're in for a job interview…" the man says, offering her scotch. She shakes her head. "Ah, right, under 21, I gotcher'. So, if you ain't here for work, what can I do you for?"

She takes a deep breath, no liking this place at all and making a not never to step inside one again. "Uh… I came to ask about a previous employee of yours…"

"Oh great, are you a cop? Because if you are…"

"No, no, I'm just trying to track down… an old relative of mine, that's all. I'm looking for Sally Saturn…"

He almost spits out his drink, his eyes are wide as he downs it anyway. "Sally Saturn?" he asks. "God, if you're looking for her I suggest you try the graveyard, doll, we never heard of her again."

She frowns. "You didn't?" Damn, dead end.

"Nope. Didn't even find her costume. Shame, really, she was a real moneymaker. Clean, too. You know how hard it is to find a clean girl willing to work here?"

She cringes. "I can only guess… listen, you interviewed her, right?" the man nods. "Can you tell me anything about her, anything at all?"

He leans back, furrowing his brow and crossing his arms in thought for a few moments. "Well… she was a little hard body, I'll tell you that… seemed pretty concerned with not being identified, oh! She had big hips!"

"Big hips?" she repeats, scrawling onto her notepad.

"Yeah! Hispanics and blacks _love_ a girl with big hips and a great ass! That I remember. Oh, and she used to dance, like, actually."

"So prior history of dancing… alright."

"Look, uh, if you find her, let her know she owes us money. That little brawl she had in here caused a lot of damage…"

--

Red Pony. Memories stirred in him aren't good ones. He passes it without giving a second look to whatever whore is leaving. He decides to head to Happy Harry's to pay them a visit. Two blocks away, not far at all.

--

"You've got to be shitting me, right?" She asks the cop as she looks at the smashed bus she was supposed to be taking home. "How the hell do I get home now?"

"Corner of Happy Harry's bar," he replies nonchalantly, not even looking up from his notepad. Route 12 is picking up Route 11 until things are running again.

She groans and turns around, not liking how late it is. She wanted to be home by 8.00, doesn't look like that will happen at all, and especially as she has to take a 2-block walk just to get to the bus.

She passes all the strip joints and porno palaces and hunches herself up as the prostitutes stare at her. She's not sure if it's because she's a woman, because she's dressed well or if they can see her busted lip. Horrified of being spotted in the red light district and near Happy Harry's of all places, she grabs the neck of her black turtleneck that's underneath her jacket and rolls it up fully, it's enough to cover her face over her nose and stay there comfortably. She'd rather look weird than be on the cover of a gossip magazine the next morning.

--

"Oh Jesus Christ…" the barman gasps when he realises just _who_ has entered his bar. "Oh dear god… it can't be…"

Other than the music in the background, the bar is silent. One woman even begins to cry and cling to her knot top boyfriend, who then takes it on himself to charge at him. This is a mistake. He grabs the knot top, twisting his arm backwards until it's not only out of its socket, but dangling there by his side as he falls to the ground screaming louder than his girlfriend.

"No, no, please!" the barman begs. "Please, what do you want?" he asks.

"Young girl mugged recently, attempted rape." He announces. "Fought back, had necklace stolen. Belonged to dead mother." He continues, reaching down for the man's good arm and taking his pinkie finger.

"Oh no, no, no, no!" pleads the barman. "No, don't do that! Not again! Not in my bar!"

He snaps the finger backwards, easily breaking it with a snap like a chicken bone. "Where is it?"

There's no response as everyone watches in horror. It makes him sick; no one even tries to help. It reminds him of Kitty Genovese, it reminds him of the reason he gave up on humans acting like humans. He snaps another one.

"Three fingers left. Where is it?"

--

She can hear the music pumping out of Happy Harry's bar before she even passes. She shakes her head; the place hasn't changed since she used to go there. She's surprised it survived the attack…

She hears a whistle in the direction she's heading in and slows down. She can see five… no, four figures in the darkness. She glares and decides to turn back to give that cop a piece of her mind… or, really, to run away. She turns to head back but sees another four in the direction she was coming from. Keeping her eyes down turned; she turns left, heading into an alleyway, hoping she remembers the area well.

"Shit…" she whispers to herself. She was wrong. It's a dead end. Her heart begins to race as she hears their laughter coming from behind her and she continues to the very end of the alley, hoping for a doorway to Happy Harry's, anything.

"_Hello_ Sugar Lumps…" one of the men calls. She quickly looks around, not even a fire escape…

"Shit."

--

He exits Happy Harry, confidant that Harry is _not_ happy with his return and that the filth of the city now knows he's back. He'll never get tired of cleaning the scum and dirt from the streets, doing what the incompetent police force can't do and making sure it won't happen again. He turns up his collar and heads in the direction that leads out of the district…

He hears a thud in the opposite direction, followed by a female grunt. He stops. Either there's a mugging, or two of the indecent vermin are fornicating in an alleyway. He hopes it's the former, and isn't surprised to find it when he arrives. But it's not what he totally expected at all, and for a second painful nostalgia sets in.

There's a woman, her lower face hidden by some sort of garment, and not only is she fighting off her attackers but she's doing a good job. It confuses him, is this the first of the new vigilantes now that the Keene act has been abolished? She takes a fist to the side of the head and lets out a yelp as she stumbles about, they have her cornered and she's vastly outnumbered.

He goes in knowing that it won't take long for him to clear, more or less concerned about this potential mask's incompetence. But then he sees something that takes him back. She kicks high, almost vertically, taking an attacker in the face and causing him to double over, clutching his nose. She uses his opportunity to platform off him and get out of the corner, springing off one of the alley's wall and landing facing them. She's fast and precise with her moves, but her defence is lacking, although she at least attempts to block.

Finally, one of her eight attackers notices him, pointing and shouting "You!" With that he charges at Rorschach, raising a fist but never making the contact he intended before he catches it and bends in backwards with a crunch, making the thug wail. Now they've all momentarily stopped and are trying to figure out in their retarded heads what to do. He uses this time to rip a pipe off the wall, tossing it at her. He's gathered from his experience that women need help.

She nods in acknowledgement before taking out the closest enemy, starting the action again as two of the men this time choose to attack him. He makes a point of moving closer to her until they're back to back, hitting whatever thug they can reach and launching off each other when recovering from a hit, although this seems to happen to her more.

One by one the thugs go down, he takes out most of them, but she manages to take down two out of eight. The final two flee, injured and fearing for their lives while their friend's skulls are splattered across the alley, their bones split and joints unhinged. When the danger is gone, she squats down, panting heavily.

"Thankyou…" she mumbles, hoping he'll look away. He doesn't.

"New vigilante…" he begins to quietly that she's not sure if he's speaking to her or himself.

"Vigil… Wait, vigilante? You think I'm-"

"Need practice. Partner. Nearly killed. Not entirely pathetic."

She shakes her head. "Wait… you're..." she doesn't get to finish at all. He's already out of the ally and leaving the street. She punches the wall behind her, putting her free palm to her forehead. He was right there, one of the people he needed to find, someone who could have told her what happened, a one in a million chance of finding him, just like Nite Owl and Silk Spectre II…

She stands up, thinking for a moment before laving the alley and heading for the bus stop. Being a normal person and hunting down vigilantes, not too hard if you find trouble… but if they think you're a vigilante… they don't just run, they give you a moment. She thinks about this for longer as she waits for the bus. Maybe she can be a vigilante… throw something like this over her face, put up her hair and fight bad guys, maybe even find a partner and work with them, just until she got what she needed of course….

The bus arrives and she boards, shaking her head. Her, a vigilante? No way. Her dad would… alright, so _he_ might be okay with it, but her mom… well… it wouldn't be a permanent thing, right? And there has to have been a reason for all that cheerleading practice and women's defence…

She smiles. Maybe she'll try it. Just for one night, to see what happens.


	4. Clocks

**Quick little update! Have to hurry, internet is about to be cut for the night. Thanks to Gaara and theanonymous one. Off we gooooo~**

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She watches the clock, nervously picking at her fingernails. It's 3.00PM… if he's coming back; he has little time to do it.

The phone rings and she jumps, giving a sigh when she realises it's not what she wanted. She moves to the counter, taking the receiver and holding it to her ear, a look of slight disappointment on her face.

"Hello?" she asks.

"Genevieve, it's me."

"Oh, Adrian…" she starts, fidgeting with her hands once more and feeling a tiny bit nervous. "How's China?"

"Frustrating is the world I will use… I'm faxing you some files about potential manufacturers, the Chinese are so efficient and low cost that we'd be insane to not consider them for future lines."

"Oh, uh… alright…"

"You sound nervous, Genevieve… is there anything wrong?"

"Oh… no… it's nothing… just uh… a little worried about Margo, that's all." She responds. She's not _entirely_ lying. She prepares herself for a bombardment of questions.

"Ah, well… if anything goes awry you know how to reach me."

She's a little taken back by his lack of curiosity, but she can out that down to lack of interest. She shrugs. "Alright, thanks Adrian, bye."

She places the phone down on the receiver, turns around, and screams. Walter is sitting at the table, staring at her intently.

"FUCK!" She gasps, her hand to her chest and leaning on the counter. "You scared the crap out of me… how the hell did you do that? We have a $20,000 security system…"

He looks at the balcony door, which is open, and she frowns. Apparently $20,000 doesn't reach the balcony… although they probably didn't think anyone else would be able to, either.

"So… where's uh… you know?" she asks, gesturing to her own face.

"Precaution. Didn't want to scare daughter."

"Oh… that's uh… considerate…" So it's okay to scare her? "She's not here, though. She has cheerleading practice tonight…"

"Hmph," he grunts. "Part of Veidt's shining family?"

"_Actually,_" she begins, leaving from behind the counter and taking a seat next to him. "_She_ decided to take it up, not Adrian… Adrian could care less…"

"Never took him for family man."

"Well he isn't."

"Meaning to talk about him."

She leans back, lighting a cigarette in her mouth and watching him. She knows what he's going to say. "Yeah, I expected that much."

"Retribution. Veidt can't continue to lead such pleasant life after corruption of so many. Sure you understand."

She nods, flicking her cigarette's ash into the ashtray on the table, one leg crossed over the other as she exhales. "But of course. Jesus, Rorschach, the only reason I know you're alive is because you broke in here coming for my husband. What makes you think I didn't know… or are you asking my permission?"

"Could say that." He answers, his eyes not leaving her hand as she pulls the cigarette up for another drag. "More of a warning. Prepare for things to change. Assuming this will go with him."

She shrugs. "I never signed pre-nup. I'm fairly sure Adrian is confident he'll outlive me… and it's not like I can divorce him, is it?"

"What about Margo?" he asks. "Can't imagine losing two fathers will do well on already fragile mental state."

"Well… I'm not sure how she'll take it… but we'll be right… maybe I'll tell her afterwards…"

"Won't believe you."

She sighs. "Rorschach, the only reason I agreed to any of this was to avoid rotting away in a jail cell forever. We killed a lot of people together, you know… and honestly?" she asks, looking out the still open balcony door. "You could take me right now and throw me in a dumpster and I'd be happy as long as I had my health, Margo and…" she stops herself.

"…And?"

She shakes her head, putting her cigarette out. "Nothing… anyway, its not like life with Veidt is fantastic, anyway. He's a horrible fake husband."

His eyes thin and she catches his hands balling up again. "Mistreating you?" he asks.

She's hesitant to answer, not sure how he'll react. "It's really not worth-"

"Answer question."

"When we fight… well…" she begins to fidget with her dress. There's no point avoiding it now, he'll get an answer one way or another. "It was a while ago… but uh… he backhanded me once during an argument… threw me across the room, actually, guy's not lying when he says he's strong." She glances at his face. He looks furious. "But, I mean, I _was_ pretty hysterical… and he probably doesn't even know how strong he is… and I mean it's not like we're in love so he was just treating me how we'd treat anyone else!"

"No excuse." He growls. "Hit wife, irredeemable."

"Rorschach, really, it's… I mean, I hit people back in the day!"

"Not the same."

"…_You_ hit _me._"

There's a silence between the two, and even though it's only a few seconds it feels as if they've been sitting there for half an hour. "Different. Not in relationship."

"…Wait, whoa, hang on!" she snaps. "Are you joking? Do you remember what else we did after you tried to strangle me?"

His eyes flicker down and she knows she shouldn't have said that. She likes talking about it as little as he does. "Was after." He replies.

"Just the other night, when you came in here looking for Adrian, you threw me against the couch!"

"Different reasons, were suspect at time. Besides, not in relationship."

She scoffs, standing up to get a drink. "You're right. It's an affair."

"Cheap wedding in registry office not real marriage."

"We were married in a Cathedral, Rorschach. Big dress and flower girl and everything." There's a hint of bitterness in her voice. She said that as an attack.

He stands up, walking right past her to the open balcony. He's had enough of this. He's compromising, it's wrong. Married woman, distracting him, serving as barrier between him and Veidt. Goes as far as to accuse him of hurting her more than was necessary.

"Rorschach?" she calls. He continues outside. "Oh, come on… please don't go…"

He grabs the railing, preparing to manoeuvre his exit.

"I was waiting for you…" she says, a little more quietly, but it's enough for him to hear. He stops. She waited? All this money, this big apartment, such a high profile job and she spent time _waiting_ for him?

"How long?" he asks, his back still to her.

"…Since you left me in the hospital."

He didn't expect this answer. She didn't mean she'd waited one night… it flew right over his head. For a second he's ashamed of himself for not understanding it right away.

"I still have that letter… and your journal… although I guess you'll want that back."

"Have new one." He grunts, still averting his eyes from her. "Already started it. Safe with you. Haven't sold it or destroyed it, can assume you take good care of it."

She nods, feeling a little guilt. In moments of anger with Veidt she'd often toyed with the idea of making as many copies as she could and sending them to every publisher known to man. But she knew well it would not only be ignored but would also compromise her and Margo's safety.

"Are you going out tonight?" she asks him. He nods, just as she would have expected – nothing different tonight.

"Ran into new mask last night. Hope to find more. Assess them."

"Looking for a partner are we?" she jokes. "You _know_ I'm irreplaceable."

He stares at her and he stops laughing immediately, obviously he doesn't think it's funny at all. "Have to make sure they won't just cause more trouble. Rescuing bungling masks wastes time."

"Well…" she begins, smiling a little and rubbing her left arm with her right hand. "There's a few hours until it gets dark… and uh… Margo won't be home until about 5.30…"

--

She stuffs her uniform in her sports bag, her clothes laid out on the bench, a towel wrapped around her. The other girls are gone, she always waits until they're out of the showers. She hates the idea of them even glancing at her naked, she's different enough, she doesn't need the extra insecurities. She's always been different to the other girls, most of them have perms, go to church, do debutant balls and spend their Friday nights getting their false nails repaired. Her hair is unaltered and red, the colour alone making her stand out. She stopped believing in god when he destroyed half of New York and killed her parents. She never did the debutant thing despite protests from her father, prom alone was a stretch for her, and she spends her Friday night at underground parties and dive bars while avoiding anyone with a camera.

Taking a hair elastic that's around her wrist, she ties her hair up, in a knot at the top of her head. She reaches for her underwear, but hears a whistle. Her heart jumps and she automatically grabs the top of her towel, securing it against her body.

"Margo, baby, is that the greeting I get?" a familiar voice asks her.

"Oh… Mr Jackson…" she sighs, recognising the young face in the coach uniform. "You scared me."

"Hey, hey, hey…" he croons, putting his hand under her chin and turning her face up. "Everyone's gone home."

"Oh, sorry Mark…" she laughs. He gives her a soft kiss. He's the new assistant coach of the football team, a P.E teacher not long out of college. They've been having this affair for four months now, taking the most caution they could humanly exercise, fully aware of the disaster that would come with discovery.

"So…" he laughs, taking her hand. "You nearly got me in trouble tonight, I couldn't take my eyes off you, nearly got my neck broken by the quarterback."

"I noticed."

He puts an arm around her waist, pulling her in against him and kissing her, softly at first, but building up to deeper and rougher kisses. She pulls away, smiling.

"Let me get dressed and I'll be out in a second, okay? You're still cool to drive me home, yeah?" She turns around, reaching for her underwear again, but she feels him pressing against her from behind, pulling her back against him. He kisses her neck and fidgets with the towel, which she holds up.

"You know… I'm supposed to lock up tonight… we have all the time in the world…"

"Heh, yeah… but I really can't tonight…"

He pulls the elastic out of her hair, letting is fall down to her shoulders. "You look so much better with your hair down." He continues kissing her neck, trying to gently untie the towel.

"Mark…" she sighs. "I really have to get home soon, I have stuff to do…"

"I've always wanted to nail a cheerleader in the locker room."

She tries to shove him away, but he doesn't let go. She's not amused anymore. "_Mark,_ not _tonight_, okay? I'm serious…"

His hand wanders don to the bottom of the towel, and she can predict where they're going. She slaps it away. _"Goddamnit,_ Mark! I said no!"

She tries to shove him away again, but this time he grunts loudly and throws her against one of the lockers, pinning her there from behind. "Mark!" she cries. "What the hell?"

"Come on, Margo…" he huffs, continuing to kiss the top of her shoulder and press against her. "You can't blame me… seeing you in that short skirt like that…"

"Get the hell off me!" she shouts.

"Mmmm…" he moans, groping her chest as she struggles. "I'm gonna pin you against this locker and fuck you so hard you'll beg me for mercy… you want that, don't you?"

A panic rushes through her and she screams out, reaching her head around and biting him in the arm, hard. He gives a yelp, letting go of her for long enough for her to shover her arm back and elbow him in the ribs. She does this with such force that she hears a crack loud enough for her to assume she's broken a rib. He grunts and stumbles back, and as he's slouched over she punches him in the mouth, causing him to trip over the bench and onto the concrete beneath. She leaps over the bench and lands on his forearm, snapping it with a crack as she uses all her body weight. The man who had just attempted to rape her is now a snivelling, sobbing and bloody heap on the floor.

A little shaken from what she's just done, she calmly dresses herself as he continues to cry on the floor, kicking him in the mouth occasionally. She zips her bag, ready to leave and looks down on him as she puts her hair back up. "My hair looks fine _up_… oh, and by the way…" she says. She kicks him in the ribs as hard as she can on the spot she broke and he give a wail that's slightly muffled by the blood.

"_That's_ because I have to take the bus now, asshole."

She smiles as she leaves the locker room, kicking the door shut behind her. The adrenaline and pride in her system, and feeling more empowered than ever she makes an off the cuff decision there and then.

She rolls up her turtleneck over her face and makes her way to the city. She's going to start tonight.

--

He pulls his undershirt back on, perfectly aware Genevieve is still watching him. The guilt that usually comes to him after this is slowly disappearing – it worries him. He's getting too soft.

"Do you really _have_ to go?" she asks, he can guess she knows the answer perfectly well. Not worth answering. He stands up, adjusting his belt and reaching for his coat. "Will you come back after?" she asks him. "I'm sure you can sneak in without Margo even noticing…"

"Naive, but not stupid. Will be able to deduce relationship when I'm there in morning."

She sits up, covering herself with the sheets, he can see her reflection in the mirror. She brushes down her messy hair as he buttons the coat. "You're right, she's not stupid. I told you she knows it's a fake marriage, something tells me not staying committed to the lie won't exactly worry her. Hell, she'd probably be proud of me."

"Having affair with someone like me? Doubt she'd be singing in joy. Have reputation for being dangerous, insane."

"You're not insane." She snaps. He grunts, fixing his muffler. He knows this perfectly well, he was just stating a common idea about him.

"Will come back when rational."

"…Maybe after you're done tonight?" she asks. "I'd just like… well… I get lonely… it'd be nice to have you next t me for once without you having to dash off the next day."

He pulls his face out of his pocket, hesitating to put it on. "Makes me uncomfortable. Have husband for that."

She turns her eyes down to the sheets as he pulls it on, tucking the bottom of the fabric underneath his muffler. "Oh… but you know that Adrian isn't…" she gives a sigh as he puts on the hat. She won't even get a goodbye kiss now, she figures there's little point in even debating. "Just come back soon, okay?"

He nods, heading to the door, as he turns the handle he feels her eyes on her and a wave of sorrow comes over him. He's been lucky enough to share a bed with her and he can't even give her the basic affections she needs. How can such a beautiful woman not find someone who'll give her the life she deserves, how can someone like her even _begin_ to want him at all? He's not sure if it's pity he feels, it could be, she can do so much better in numerous respects… but instead she remains in a miserable marriage, sitting in a bed and begging _him_ of all people to come back.

"…Will return."

"…Promise?" she asks as he pushes the door open.

He stops in his tracks, looking over his shoulder a little. "Promise."


End file.
